


My Brother's Keeper

by MagiKat409



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Bashing, Minor Character Death, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Other, Self-Insert, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 20:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14220798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagiKat409/pseuds/MagiKat409
Summary: Ashley Porter, Eugene's baby sister makes a choice.





	My Brother's Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> If you're a fan of Rosita: THIS FIC ISNT FOR YOU. I've reworked this fic recently, and massively edited it into a random one-shot that I could play off of in future works. Until then, this is a stand alone fic. Also might be spelling errors. I hope you enjoy reading this! Please leave kudos; means the world :D

Rosita and myself never see eye-to-eye on anything. She’d rather go in guns a blazing, rather than plot a strategic offense. Her attitude towards my older brother, Eugene only furthers the distance between her and I. A few months back we joined up with Rosita and the late Abraham (may he rest in peace). On our journey to Washington D.C. we got held up somewhere in Virginia. It was then Glenn came into our lives, along with his wife, Maggie and their group lead by Rick Grimes.

 

Eugene is a very sensitive person who’s been trying to overcome his social anxiety for years; and I, being his sister have been by his side to help him manage and cope. Another reason my distaste for Rosita? She constantly targets my brother when something went wrong, taking her anger and annoyance out on him.

 

My brother’s IQ is chart-breaking, don’t let his awkwardness fool you. Even as kids Eugene would thinker around with damn near anything. I always went to him for fixing my toys when I was younger. So, you can only imagine how valuable a skill as crafting ammunition now a days since the world has been overrun by ghouls.

 

Bullets, food, and medicine are now the currency of the land. Which is why I’m currently along with Rosita and Eugene inside the secret workshop a few miles away from Alexandria. This was his little inner sanctum, I went with Eugene only to provide protection. Otherwise, I stayed outside because I respected his privacy.

 

Should’ve suspected this wasn’t the typical supply run after we left that dip-shit, Spencer, behind (can’t stand his ass). Both my brother and Rosita have been discussing (more like bickering) manufacturing one single 9mm bullet since she found a lone shell casing, ironically enough from when Negan fired a gun at an upper floor window of my house (by the way, thanks a lot you douchebag; my bedroom is now a freezer).

 

Eugene stands in front of the workbench as Rosita empties out her pack, laying various components of scrap. Having my back against the wall near the door, left palm on the handle of my machete, I kept a lookout for any random walkers that might wonder our way.

 

“I didn't want to come back here. I don't…” pleaded Eugene.

 

Rosita slammed her pack down, “No,” she sharply said, “I asked YOU to make me a bullet. YOU said yes, so make me a bullet.” she demanded once again.

 

I intervened sensing Rosita was about to lash out on Eugene, and strode my way in between the two. “Zita! Knock it off. For fuck sake think about what you're asking here, what of your ‘grand idea’ fails?! The gun jams or you miss huh?” trying to reason with Rosita’s stubborn ass.  
The thought of Negan or any of those fucking Saviors of his finding out that we can- no, that Eugene can make bullets. We'd lose a major advantage! Not only that, but Rosita could get herself killed (personally I wouldn't mind) or someone else takes the fall all because she wanted to play hero? That part didn't rest well on my conscious.

 

“Don't let your hatred for that son of a bitch blind you Zita.” I told her. “Think about what Abe said, they have the numbers game on lock against us. Look, we’re not trying to stop you,” gesturing back and forth with my left hand between Eugene and myself, “Just slow your roll for a second.”

 

“Eugene agreed to do this Ashely. Right, Eugene?” Rosita questioning him.

 

God! I wanna nothing more than to strangle her dumb ass.

 

“A-Ashley has a point. Uh, in the intervening hours, I've been taking a deep drive into other options and contingencies, trying to game out any iteration in which charging into this enterprise makes any iteration in which charging into this enterprise makes any sense.” Eugene answered her.

 

Rosita sighed in frustration, “I'm not waiting you two. That's just being stupid.”

 

“No, what's stupid is that you're too fucking blind by your own damn grief to see the outcome of your actions!” I yell at her.

 

This is just childish. Pointing a finger at Rosita, I continue to argue, “You're not the only one who misses Abraham and Glenn!” sighing and lowering hands to my side, I said calmly, “Besides, if Abe was STILL alive, he would've told you that it's bone headed thinking you’re doing Rosita.”

 

Both Eugene and myself could see the fumes radiating off of her. Eugene then added, “Like Ashley said, Abraham was right...they have the numbers.”

Running a hand through my shoulder-length red locks in contemplation I said, “I understand you're upset and angry Zita...”

 

Rosita scoffs as we all continuously try to reach a compromise, but to no avail.

 

The next words that fell from Rosita’s mouth set me off. “You both owe me, you both owe it to him.”

 

I got right in her face, “We owe you shit!” Both hands fisting the collar of her jacket, our noses touching.

 

“Abe? Yes. You? You Rosita? Not a goddamn thing…” Pushing her into the workbench forcefully, I told Eugene I'd see him back in Alexandria and stomp off towards the back door.

 

I need to get out of here before Rosita becomes another casualty among the dead and the undead. Walking out the door, I slung my backpack I left near the entrance back on and made the trek back to Alexandria.

After a two hour trip on foot, I make it back to Alexandria, only to be greeted by the sight of Savior’s trucks which means only one thing: Negan is here. But, why? It hasn’t even been 24 hours since that assclown and his cronies were knocking on our front gate?! What the hell could they possibly want now? Walking to the gate I was stopped by one of the Saviors, a black man who looked to be in his late 20’s.

 

“Hey there friend, I’m gonna need you to hand over what you’ve got in ya pack. Since it belongs to Negan.” he said mockingly.

 

The other Saviors that were with him chuckled. I shrugged my knapsack off my right shoulder and handed it to him. “We done here?” I asked.

 

“You did your job. That’s good, Negan likes that.” A mousey looking blonde women said to the left of me. “Thanks for the stuff, now get.” she demanded as I grabbed by now empty backpack from the table in front of one of their vans and walked away.

 

Making my way back to my house, I see Spencer heading in direction of the vehicle; arms loaded with goods including a compound hunting bow and some can foods. That asshole just smiled at me and I returned the gesture by shoulder checking him as I passed him.

 

Hearing the gate creek open again, I looked to see that my brother, Eugene and that púta, Rosita had returned as well.

 

Stepping onto the front porch, I opened the front door and shut it behind me as I made my way up the stairs to my bedroom for a fresh change of clothes and a quick shower. After stepping out of the tub, I slipped into a fresh pair of lacy, powdered-blue panties and a matching bra. I tugged on my distressed skinny jeans, a teal tank top and a pair of socks.  
Running a brush through my wet locks and setting it back down on the bathroom counter, I turned the handle of the door and walked out. Putting on my boots and strapping on my holster, I made my way out of the house onto the main street of Alexandria. In my right peripheral, I noticed a large gathering of people near Rick’s home.

 

“This can't be good,” I muttered under my breath as I walking towards the crowd.

 

Pushing my way through the crowd, I spot Eugene and went over to stand near him. The expression on his and everyone other member of Alexandria faces was one of fear and apprehension, and for a damn good reason. In front of us was a pool table from the late Mr. Davidson’s garage.

 

Along with Spencer, dressed in his Sunday best playing pool, drinking liquor and just shooting the damn breeze, was a now cleanly-shaved Negan. What the fuck is this?! I lean my head in to Eugene's left ear and whispered, “The fuck is this idiot doing?”

 

Eugene just shrugged his shoulders, clearly in the dark as I was. But, as I moved closer to the front I overheard the two pool players conversation. “So, I should put you in charge - that’s what you’re saying?” Negan said quizility to Spencer who replied, “We’d be much better off.” That fucking snake was trying to get rid of Rick!

 

My graze harden, glaring daggers at Spencer’s back. After everything Rick has done for all of us?! Alexandria would burn if Negan puts this dumb fuck in charge, but I have this gut feeling that he’s not stupid to let Spencer run the show.

 

My suspicions all the more confirmed as the next few words pour out of Negan’s lips. “You know...I’m thinking, Spencer.” He walks closer to Spencer, handing the pool cue off to random Savior. “I’m thinking how Rick threatened to kill me, how he clearly hates my guts.” Finishing the last sip of scotch in the tumbler, Negan rest the empty glass right on the blue felt of the pool table.

 

His eyes not once leaving their gaze on Spencer, “But, he’s out there right now; gathering shit for me to make sure I don’t hurt any of the fine people that live here. He’s swallowing his hate and getting shit done.” He chuckles and continues to speak, “That takes guts. And then there’s you…”

 

You’ve sealed your fate Spence. It took every fiber of my being to hold down a smirk from forming on my lips, so I placed back my emotional mask on my face and waited on baited breath for Negan’s next move. “The guy who waited for Rick to be gone, so he could sneak over and talk to me to get me to do his dirty work; so he could take Rick’s place.”

He’s right in Spencer’s personal space, I could see the look of fear in Spencer’s face; it was quite apparent. “So I gotta ask - if you wanna take over, why not just kill Rick yourself and just take over?” Negan pressed the question to Spencer who only stuttered out a response.

 

“What? No. no. I didn’t--I didn’t--”

 

“You know what I’m thinking? ‘Cause I have a guess…” Negan takes a breath as he leans in and whispers aloud, “It’s because, you got no guts.”

 

Before any of us in the crowd could blink, Negan unsheathes the knife holstered on his hip and plunges the serrated blade into Spencer’s belly like it was soft butter. My pupils dilated as my eyes widen when his right wrist jerked the knife away, slicing open Spencer’s stomach causing blood to splatter against Negan’s smooth jaw. Allowing his steaming, bloody viscous coated intestinal tract to pore out in a heap onto the asphalt.

 

Everyone around me gasped in horror as Spencer made a piss-poor attempt to push his organs back into his abdomen, letting out a gurgling sound knees buckled from underneath from the shock and blood loss, a trickle of deep burgundy ooze out the corner of his mouth all while he looked down at his own insides as Spencer laid on the ground; dead.

 

Still holding the blood soaked knife in his grasp, Negan looked down at Spencer’s corpse in disappointment. “Ohh. How embarrassing; there they are. They were inside you the whole time.” Turning his attention back towards the crowd around them, he shouted, “I’ve never been so wrong in my whole life!”

 

Flashing a smile that held such glee it was disgusting. Sure, I disliked Spencer, but no one should have to die like that even if they’re a douchebag. I glanced over at Rosita whose flexing the fingers in her right hand, almost itching to whip out the gun I know damn well she’s hidden on her person. Upper lip curled upwards, seething in rage because of Negan’s actions.

 

With his back turned, he sheathed his knife and picked up Lucille who was resting on the side of the pooltable. Swiveling his boot-clad feet around to face us all, “Now, someone oughta get up here and clean this mess up.” he mockingly ordered. No one made a move, the sounds of cicadas being the only noise for that brief moment of silence.

 

Negan smirked once again and spoke out, holding out Lucille jestering the group, “Oh. Anyone wanna finish the game? C’mon. Anybody?” Still smiling like the cat who caught the canary, he kept taunting us. Looking over at Rosita again, I knew from the way she was shaking that she was going to snap and that would only bring up more trouble than it was worth.  
I had to act quickly, regardless of wanting Negan dead myself; this wasn’t the time nor opportune moment. Cautiously making my way to where Rosita was standing, I moved into position to her left side. Readying myself to take her down if she made one sudden move. I’ve seen enough death for one day, and I sure as hell don’t want anyone else to pay for someone's recklessness.

 

“Anybody? C’mon...I was winning!”

 

Rosita had enough, and rapidly pulled the gun she’d been stashing away from the waistband of her jeans, hoisting it up and aimed for Negan’s skull. Squeezing the trigger, a thunderous gun shot echoed, breaking the tense silence. Pushing off the arches of my feet, I rushed forward and tackled Rosita from the side onto the street.

 

Both of us grunted and struggled against one another, my right fist clashed into her cheekbone. More fists, hair-pulling and furious tempers flew before a pair of Saviors pulled my body off Rosita’s. A latina Savior with curly hair pulled up tight on top her head fished out a knife, holding a struggling Rosita onto the ground. Meanwhile, Negan was cussing up a storm utterly furious at being shot at.

 

“SHIT! WHAT THE SHIT?! Shit! You just- You tried to kill me?!” Negan furious expression only grew as he looked at the slug lodged into the middle of his precious bat, Lucille. “You shot Lucille!” He screamed.

 

Still squirming under Arat (the woman holding Rosita), Rosita barked out, “She got in the way.” almost proud to have at least cause some sort of emotional damage to Negan after weeks dealing with this man’s bullshit. Negan glared menacingly at Rosita shouting, “You shot Lucille!” The way he spoke about his barbed-wrapped bat was almost as though it was a real human being.

 

I pondered if he lost someone close to him named Lucille; a wife, daughter, mother, whomever had that namesake before I was dragged out of my own thoughts when that grungy, creep that was harassing Enid over her green balloons bent over and picked up the shell casing between his index finger and thumb.

 

“Hey, boss!” he hollard. “Take a gander at this.” Walking towards and placing the object in Negan’s open palm.

 

“What is this?” questioned Negan. Holding the shell in the middle of his fingers out so everyone could see. “What is this?” he playfully asked.

 

“This little bad boy made from scratch? Look at those crimps...This was homemade.”

 

Negan peered down at Rosita, “You may be stupid, darlin’, but you showed some REAL ingenuity here.”

 

“Does he really think Rosita is smart enough to manufacture ammunition?” I thought before Negan ordered Arat to move up her knife, the sharpen metal almost kissing Rosita’s skin. Stating to her, “Lucille’s beautiful, smooth surface is NEVER gonna look the same, so why should yours?!”

Swinging Lucille in a curricular motion, Negan sauntered over towards me. Leaning his lips close to my left ear, he whispered. “What about you sweet cheeks? Do you know who made this?” The fear that Eugene would be outed as the one who manufactured the bullet sent me into a panic.

I knew I had to protect him, even if it means sacrificing myself. “You’re looking right at her.” A smile graced Negan’s lips at my answer. I knew he bought my bluff and Eugene would be safe now. After all, I am my brother’s keeper.


End file.
